


sitting on a shooting star with you

by antijosh



Series: ice ice baby [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Sports, M/M, Sports Journalist Jae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-23 19:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16625231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antijosh/pseuds/antijosh
Summary: brian kang has a good job on a good hockey team with a good record: he’s pretty much got it made. or at least he does until california expat jae park joins their team, throwing brian for a loop and showing him exactly what he's been missing.





	sitting on a shooting star with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blushingjjk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushingjjk/gifts).



> title from daydreaming, brian's predebut original song. beta'd by r~

_October_

+

Brian shoves his hands a little deeper into his coat pockets, sniffling to check if he still has feeling in the tip of his nose. The temperature had dropped rapidly overnight, making his walk into work a little colder than he's maybe used to—but Brian loves it. He takes a deep breath in, letting the sting of cold air linger in his nostrils for as long as he can before blowing out a warm puff from his chapped lips. There's a siren wailing in the distance, cutting through the sound of his boots crunching the dead leaves in his path, but Brian barely hears any of it. He keeps his head down until he gets to work, the swing of the glass doors welcoming him with a wash of warmth. He strips out of his scarf on his way to the locker room, flashing the woman behind the front desk a winning smile as he heads back.

Sungjin’s perched on the edge of bench lacing up his skates when Brian walks in, and he gives Brian a cordial head nod in greeting like they haven’t been on the same team for three years and friends for another two before that. 

“Hey,” Brian replies, voice hoarse from disuse and still a little thick from sleep. Sungjin doesn’t answer in words, and Brian isn’t offended by it—it’s normal for them. But then, on he way out, he stops, skate guards scraping the floor as he turns to get Brian’s attention.

“Just so you know, coach Park says we have an observer this morning. So don’t fuck around too much,” he says, and Brian snorts.

“It’s not me you have to worry about, but I’ll pass that message along to Jackson assuming he decides to show up for practice today,” he replies, and Sungjin turns with a huff of “he better,” hand running over his shaven head as he heads out to the ice. 

As Brian strips down to his practice clothes and pulls his skates out of his locker, his mind begins to drift. If you asked him as a kid what he wanted to be when he grew up, he would have said a rockstar, or maybe a basketball player if you asked him during those specific six months in middle school. At any rate, he never expected to be living in Canada and play hockey for a living. But something happened, between him and the ice, and now he can’t picture himself anywhere else.

He pushes himself to his feet easily, enjoying the extra few inches he gains from his skates that let him see out the locker room door and out onto the ice, where Sungjin’s setting up cones for warm ups. Really, Sungjin’s always been a shoe in for team captain. Jaebum has the leadership skills, but lacks the same ability to arrive thirty minutes early to every scheduled practice. 

When Brian makes his way out onto the ice, he lingers a little in taking off his skate guards so he can enjoy the clamor of everyone else arriving: Jackson appears to be bothering Jaebum, who hoists his gym bag a little higher up on his shoulder with a groan. Bernard trails in behind them, stifling a yawn with the back of one hand and picking at his frayed grey sweatpants with the other. They’re a bit of a rag tag team, but Brian thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way. As those guys head for the lockers, he finally steps out onto the ice, and it feels like coming home. 

He skates a few laps just to warm up just because he can, stretching out his neck and his arms and everything he can, but mostly just enjoying the smooth glide of his skates over fresh ice. Eventually, everyone else makes it out onto the ice, and Sungjin has them line up for drills. It’s then that Brian see him—there’s a rush of cold air from the doors opening and in rushes a man with blonde hair flopping into his eyes and a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Off to the side, Coach Park stands, clapping his hands together to get the team’s attention. 

“Gentleman,” he starts, and Jackson groans before he even knows what’s going on. Coach Park fixes him with a glare, and Jackson just starts to innocently fiddle with the half zip of his jacket. “This is Jae Park,” Coach Park continues, gesturing to the man who’s now fighting a battle with his scarf and losing. Brian has to stifle a laugh. “Mr. Park is a sports journalist who’s new to the area, and he’s been assigned to follow us for the season and write a special piece when it’s all over. Please, do your best to be helpful and answer any questions he may have for you. I know you all get pleasure out of being assholes to each other, but please. Let him do his job and we’ll do ours.” 

“You can just call me Jae,” blondie says, waving awkwardly, and that’s when Brian finally gets a good look at his face. He’s handsome—more handsome than Brian was expecting. Much more handsome. He’s got full, pouty lips that are flushed red like he’s been biting them, and pale cheeks tinged pink by the cold. His eyes almost seem to sparkle behind the thin gold frames of his glasses, but Brian supposes that also could be due to the nervous blinking. But even that’s cute. Everything about this guy is cute.

Brian is so fucked. 

Brian finds himself distracted during practice. Jae parks himself right behind the penalty box, notepad resting on his knee with a pen in one hand and a croissant in the other. Brian watches as his cheeks puff up like a hamster as he eats, and then he almost runs directly into Jaebum. 

“You good?” Jaebum asks, brows furrowing until he looks from Brian to the bleachers and then back again, understanding dawning on his face. “You have a crush on the repor—” he starts before Brian claps a gloved hand over his mouth, which is a bold move. Jaebum’s eyes narrow, but he lets Brian escape unscathed when he flashes Jaebum a sheepish smile. 

“Not a crush,” he corrects as he skates away. Jaebum just scoffs, the sound nearly masked by the scrape of his blades against the ice. 

Brian Kang is a grown man who plays hockey professionally. He does not get crushes.

Except maybe when there’s a pretty journalist sitting up in the stands, watching him.

Sungjin switches them from drills to actual practice and Brian is forced to focus so he doesn’t get body slammed into a wall by Jackson, who is always a little over eager towards Brian in particular. He doesn’t really know why. Jaebum keeps looking at Brian out of the corner of his eye, something that neither Brian nor Sungjin miss.

“Is there something on Kang’s face or do you just think he’s cute?” Sungjin asks dryly, fixing Jaebum with a pointed look. From his position in the goal box Mark grins, showing off his pointed canines. 

“I think JB just likes him,” he pipes up, laughing when Jaebum spins just to glare at him. 

Brian flushes pink, and Sungjin huffs. “Pull it together, guys, it’s only the start of the season.”

“Roger that, oh captain my captain,” Jackson answers with a shit eating grin. Bernard stifles a laugh into his mask, and Brian can see the urge to quit right then and there make itself apparent in Sungjin’s expression. He spares a glance back at the stands, where Coach Park leans over and says something into the journalist’s ear. Jae just nods, lips pressed together like he’s holding back giggles, and if Brian wasn’t on skates he thinks he’d swoon. 

Sungjin calls for them, and then it’s back to business.

They stop for the morning a little over an hour later, everyone slipping off the ice and heading for the locker room, or the vending machine in Brian’s case. As soon as he gets his chips he leans against the wall to eat them, not bothering to move more than six inches away from the machine. His skates lay propped up next to him, and he flexes his toes in his wool socks just to make sure he still has feeling.

“You know, you seem a lot taller on the ice.” The strange voice startles Brian, and he looks up with wide eyes. Cute journalist Jae is standing in front of him, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie and a half smile on his face.

Brian straightens, returning the smile easily. “I get that a lot,” he replies, noting how even when he stands at his full height, he still has to look up a little to make eye contact with Jae. 

Jae’s smile widens, and he fishes two crumpled dollar bills out of his pocket to feed the machine, which in turn provides him a bag of M&Ms he promptly tears open. 

“So you’re new to Toronto?” Brian prompts trying to see if he can break the ice a little bit with the attractive guy who's apparently going to be following them for the next few months.

“New to Canada,” Jae replies, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “Well, kind of. I lived in Vancouver for about a year when I was a kid, but I’ve lived a lot of places that I don’t remember so I don’t really count it.”

“Like where?” Brian prompts, raising an eyebrow as he crunches down on a chip.

“You sure you wanna know? It’s kind of a long list,” Jae asks, and Brian nods.

“Try me,” he says, and Jae just smiles at him.

“I was born in Argentina, lived there a few months before we moved to Korea, then we moved to the U.S., then to Vancouver, and then back to L.A. where I really grew up.”

Brian nods like he understands, which he kind of does. Jae seems to catch on to that, because then he asks, “What about you?”

“Moved from Korea when I was 14 and I’ve been here ever since,” Brian answers simply with a small shrug.

"Then your Korean's better than mine for sure," Jae jokes, and Brian can't hold his tongue.

"Well, you can't be perfect," he says, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as soon as the words leave his mouth. He really should not be flirting with this guy he essentially has to work with till the season's over but yet. Here he is. "I mean, no one's perfect," he struggles to correct, and Jae just laughs.

"Yeah, no one's perfect," he echoes, and then Coach Park's whistle rings throughout the rink and Brian can hear the clatter of his teammates getting back on the ice. "Guess you'd better go," Jae says and Brian nods, pushing himself off the wall and grabbing his skates with the hand not covered in chip pieces and oil.

"See you around, Jae," he says, giving a small wave in the hopes that maybe Jae will think Brian isn't hyperaware of his presence in the stands.

"See you on the ice, Kang," Jae replies, and Brian laughs.

"Brian is fine," he says, and Jae's expression softens into a sweet smile.

"Brian then." Brian doesn't respond, just smiles back before turning around and heading for the ice. 

+

_November_

+

Their team is 3-0 so far in the season, which is a place Brian is very happy to be in. Sungjin is happy too, letting them fool around a bit more than usual during drills. Well, the level of fooling around is the same, but he just nags less, which Brian counts as a win. 

Everyone’s gotten comfortable with Jae too, which is nice. He sits front row, and sometimes talks to them during warm ups or breaks. Mark and Bernard quickly discover Jae likes the same video games they do, so they end up monopolizing his time as Brian watches, stick scraping the ice as he passes a puck back and forth with Jaebum.

“Are you sad your boyfriend won’t talk to you?” Jaebum teases, shit eating grin partially hidden behind his helmet. 

“Shut up,” Brian replies, but there’s no bite to his words. He spares another glance towards the edge of the rink, chest tightening as something Bernard says sends Jae into a fit of giggles.

Jaebum snorts. “This is just sad, man.”

Brian has no reply for that, because it really, really is. He doesn’t understand why he’s so taken with Jae, except that he kind of does—he’s definitely Brian’s type, all long legs and full lips and smiling eyes, and he’s got a way with words that makes Brian’s brain hurt in the best sort of way. There was one night, not long after that first practice, that Brian stayed up and read every article of Jae’s he could get his hands on, from just basic rundowns to the occasional opinion piece, and he hasn’t been able to get Jae out of his mind ever since. 

The problem really lies in the fact that Brian refuses to _do_ anything about it. It’s been a month since Jae first came, and they haven’t done more than exchange pleasantries ever since the first day by the vending machine. It’s not really because he’s insecure or anything, just that it feels almost inappropriate. Jae is here to do a job just like Brian’s here to do his, and anything more than that feels like an overstep.

Not that that means anything to Mark and Bernard, who are currently overstepping all over the penalty box. 

“Back on the ice please, gentlemen,” Coach Park says, hands folded behind his back and a wry smile on his face. “Leave Mr. Park alone.”

Mark and Bernard grumble but do as they’re told, leaving Jae looking sheepish in the stands. Brian thinks he catches Jae apologizing to Coach Park, and then he wants to cry a little bit because is it really fair to be so good looking and so endearing? He doesn’t think so. 

They get back to practice after that, but Jaebum still doesn’t let Brian live. It’s business as usual. 

Later, when they’re tired and gross and Brian is shivering from the thin sheen of sweat left on his skin, Jae comes down from the stands and approaches the team as a whole as they’re heading for the locker room.

“Hey guys, I was wondering if anyone wanted to give a quick interview after you clean up? It’ll be short and I only need maybe three people,” he asks, looking a bit nervous and out of place standing in front of a big, sweaty hockey team.

“I’ll do it.” Brian’s mouth moves to speak before his brain catches up, and then the whole team is looking at him but Brian can only look at Jae, whose face splits into a grin.

“Great. Any other volunteers?” Brian stops paying attention then, more focused on the mini meltdown he’s having over the fact that Jae’s going to ask him questions and he has to answer them like a normal, non-flirtatious human being. He’s really not sure if he’s capable of that, but he’s going to have to be. 

Jae must get the volunteers he’s looking for because the team starts to disperse, and Brian heads for the showers. He’s in and out faster than usual, tugging a soft, worn charcoal henley over his head and running a hand through his flat hair to get it up off of his forehead. Jaebum is at his locker across the bench, pulling at the zipper on his firetruck red hoodie.

“You excited to have some one-on-one time with your crush?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at Brian casually. Brian just glares, tightening the laces on his boots. Unbothered by the lack of response, Jaebum keeps going. “You were awfully quick to sign up for that interview.”

“Just doing my job,” Brian answers, slinging his backpack over his shoulder to signify that the conversation is over. Jaebum means well, and Brian knows this. He hasn’t been in a real relationship since he first joined the team: Jaebum was already here then, and watched Brian’s relationship with Ayeon the figure skater go down in flames. Since then it’s been just him, which Brian doesn’t mind. Or didn’t, until now. Something about Jae gets his stomach fluttering again, has him longing for all the sappy sweet parts of relationships and forgetting about how much work they are. No matter how much he denies it when Jaebum calls it so, it really is a crush. 

Jae’s waiting out on a bench near the entrance of the rink, elbows resting on bended knees as he hunches over, scrolling through something on his phone. Brian approaches awkwardly, unsure of what to say, but Jae must hear the sound of Brian’s boots against the tile because he straightens, looking behind him and smiling when his eyes meet Brian’s. 

He stands, slinging his ever-present messenger bag over his shoulder before stepping closer to Brian so he can be heard over the clatter of the rest of the team leaving. 

“This shouldn’t take long,” he says reassuringly. “I just need to ask you a few questions about how you think the season is going so far.”

Brian nods along, not sure that a response is required from him. Jae seems to have no problem with it, leading Brian to the stands so they’ve got some space to sit.

“Are we waiting for anyone else?” Brian asks, recalling that Jae had asked for multiple volunteers. He looks around, but there's no one else even looking in their direction. 

“Just you for right now,” Jae responds easily. “I’m meeting with Bernard and Jaebum later.” 

Brian nods in acknowledgement, suddenly a lot more nervous than he was before. 

“We can start off easy,” Jae says reassuringly, like he can tell Brian is intimidated by the idea of a one-on-one interview. Honestly, Brian’s usually pretty good at this kind of thing, but after the last time he was one-on-one with Jae (where he accidentally called Jae perfect to his face), he’s a little on edge.

“So,” Jae starts, looking up at Brian from over the top of his laptop. “How did you feel about the way last season ended, and did it change anything in how you prepared for this season?”

“This is easy?” Brian jokes, and Jae just laughs back. Brian takes a deep breath, giving him a little time to collect his thoughts before he answers. “I think last season we didn’t get as far into the playoffs as we would have liked, so the whole team really pushed themselves preparing for this season. Of course we still have fun, but this is probably the hardest we’ve ever worked. We’re really trying to make this season our best.” 

Jae nods thoughtfully, jotting Brian’s notes down in what must be his own form of shorthand because no reasonable human should be able to type that fast. 

Brian relaxes as the interview continues; Jae asks about what exactly they changed about their training, what Brian thinks about these past three games, how he’s feeling about the upcoming game. The questions are simple enough, and focusing on hockey gives Brian a reason to not think about the attractive glint of Jae’s eyes behind his silver framed glasses. 

“Well, thank you for your time Brian,” Jae says when Brian’s answered the last question, and Brian’s heart skips when he hears his name roll off Jae’s tongue (he likes the way Jae shortens the vowels, says it like it’s casual, easy, natural). 

“No problem,” Brian replies, standing. He pauses for an awkward moment, not sure if he should shake Jae’s hand or something, but Jae solves that problem by reaching across to clap Brian on the shoulder. 

“See you around,” he says, and then he’s showing his laptop into his messenger bag and heading for the stairs, and Brian’s left wondering why he feels like a middle schooler with a crush again. 

+

_December_

+

December rolls in with thick grey clouds that hang heavy over the rink as Brian walks into work, pausing when he sees a figure outlined in front of the entrance. Jae stands with his back to Brian, one hand clutching the strap of his bag and the other fumbling with his phone in what appears to be an attempt to take a picture of the monochrome grey sky. 

Brian walks up beside him, Jae only noticing when Brian breaks the silence with a soft “hey.”

“Hey,” Jae echos, a smile cutting across his face like sunshine through the darkness. He gives a little wave with his phone before sheepishly explaining, “I was just taking a picture to show my friends back in California the great weather they’re missing here.”

“Canada has many charms but the lack of sun really isn’t one of them,” Brian jokes awkwardly, hands shoved deep into his pockets both because its cold and because he doesn’t really know what to do with them. 

“It’s not so bad, when you’ve got other things to warm you up,” Jae replies, before shoving his phone into his pocket and giving Brian a small wave. “See you on the ice!” He heads inside, and it takes Brian a solid thirty seconds of standing in the parking lot to realize that Jae maybe possibly potentially had just flirted with him. 

It takes him all the way until the locker room to realize he’d said nothing back.

Brian would say that on an average day at practice he spends about 20% of the time stealing glances at wherever Jae is sitting that day. Today, it’s something closer to 50%. He doesn’t really know what he’s looking for--Jae looking back? Some other confirmation that that was actually flirting and not Brian overcomplicating things? 

Jaebum, as always, notices, following Brian’s gaze to the stands.

“You should invite him to Christmas,” Jaebum suggests without any preamble, and when Brian gives him a panicked look, he just shrugs. “Just think about it.”

Christmas for their team is a long standing tradition, and by long standing Brian means since before he joined. He thinks it was started by an old member who has since retired, but really he’s not sure—the mantle has been passed around too many times to keep track of. Many of them have family living abroad, too far to visit every year, or some of them just don’t celebrate it. Either way, team Christmas was started to give them something to do on the holiday, and it’s a tradition that Brian has very much bought into. 

Brian considers it for a moment. In all likelihood, Jae will go home for Christmas. California isn’t so far, and they have a long enough break for it to be feasible. The most plausible scenario is that Brian invites Jae to Christmas, therefore showing that he cares and wants Jae around, and Jae politely declines. 

Besides, even if Jae does accept, it can’t be _that_ bad. Brian has a buffer, in the form of his teammates who ritually attend Christmas: Jaebum, who doesn’t visit Korea until it’s time for Lunar New Year, Sungjin, who lets his older sister visit his parents for Christmas and waits to see them until it’s festival season, and Mark, who’s family lives in the area but just doesn’t care much for Christmas in general. Some years Jackson’s even come, making it more lively than usual. Regardless, Brian won’t be alone with Jae, which makes the probability of him making a fool of himself statistically insignificant. 

“Fine,” he replies, trying to make it sound light and casual. “I’ll invite him to Christmas.”

Jaebum looks satisfied with himself, which immediately makes Brian want to take it back. He won’t, though. Not only is it the right thing to do, but he also really can’t pass up a chance to hang out with Jae outside of work. Maybe he can even strike up a real conversation about something other than hockey or hometowns. His mind starts running away with all the possibilities before Brian can even remind himself to not get his hopes up. 

For the rest of practice Brian tries to get his nerves out, body slamming Bernard a little harder than is maybe necessary in his reach for the puck. Bernard, thankfully, doesn’t hold it against him, just grins from behind his mask and strikes back even harder. Brian’s faster though, navigating out of Bernard’s reach so he can swipe the puck to Jackson, who passes it to Mark, the only person known to be able to get it in when Jaebum is goalie.

They score, but Brian’s still distracted. This whole Jae thing really isn’t good for him.

Cooling down in the locker room afterwards, Brian feels like an outsider looking in as Mark and Jackson playfully tease Jaebum, who just rolls his eyes and tugs a XXL hoodie over his head. Bernard stops on his way out to clap Brian on the back for the game he played, but Brian’s returning thanks feels insincere, because he’s still too busy thinking about how he’s going to ask Jae to a party he probably won’t attend. 

Everyone eventually shuffles out, leaving Brian and Jaebum alone in the locker room—Brian fumbling through his locker to stall and Jaebum trying to get his hair to stop dripping onto the collar of his hoodie. Eventually he either manages it or gives up, because next thing Brian knows Jaebum is slinging Brian’s bag over his shoulder and dragging him out by his elbow.

“Stop hiding,” he says, and Brian doesn’t dignify that with a response. Jaebum’s right anyway. 

He relinquishes the bag once they’re out in the main atrium, and Brian shoulders it with a grumble. He’s about to say something to Jaebum—probably not anything smart, but something—when Jaebum’s suddenly using his too-wide shoulders to shove Brian to the side. Brian collides with someone, hands instinctively going out to steady himself as he yelps, “sorry!”

Jae looks up, bewildered, phone still clutched in his hands from where he must have been looking moments before Jaebum intentionally caused a disaster. Brian shoots a glare back over his shoulder to Jaebum, who just hangs back looking satisfied. 

“I’m sorry,” Brian apologizes again, and Jae laughs quietly.

“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly, “I should have been looking where I was going.”

“Still,” Brian replies, and Jae nods in understanding. There’s just a half beat of silence before Jaebum jumps in.

“Kang has something he wants to ask you,” he says like they’re in middle school, and Brian swears that next time they’re on the ice Jaebum is getting body slammed into the wall, no hesitation. 

Jae looks at Brian expectantly, and then Brian’s mouth is moving without approval from his brain. “I don’t know if you have plans or anything but the team members who don’t go home for Christmas usually get together at someone’s apartment for the holiday, so. If you’re around with nothing better to do, you should come. You’re welcome to come, I mean. You’re part of the team.”

“Are you hosting?” Jae asks, and Brian feels his face heat up.

“Yeah,” he replies, “so if you’ve ever wanted to find out where I live, now’s your chance.” Immediately after the words leave his mouth, Brian regrets ever learning how to speak English. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have just said that terrible sentence.

“Well, assuming there’s booze and food, I’ll be there.” Jae smiles, reaching out to pat Brian’s shoulder in thanks before pocketing his phone. “I gotta run, but thanks for the invite and I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

With that he’s gone, Brian left to stare open mouthed at his retreating back while Jaebum snickers behind him. 

“Inviting him to stalk you? For someone who’s usually good with words, you really say some stupid shit in front of that guy,” Jaebum says as he steps up to stand beside Brian. Brian snaps his jaw shut, turning to punch Jaebum’s shoulder.

“Asshole,” he mutters, and Jaebum just laughs, following Brian’s dejected path out of the rink.

+

Thankfully, Brian manages to not embarrass himself any further as the holidays approach. He and Jae have exchanged small talk several times since the disastrous invitation and it’s gone just fine. The week before Christmas, Jae asks if there’s any food he should bring, to which Brian very nearly responds “just yourself,” before thinking to add “no food” before it, just to stay on the safe side. Then he asks for Brian’s number, “to make communication easier,” and Brian nearly short circuits. Jaebum is in the background as always, laughing at Brian’s pain. Still, things seem to be heading in the right direction, until Christmas Eve. That’s when everything goes to shit. 

Starting with Mark at 10 a.m., all of Brian’s friends cancel on him within a span of three hours. Mark’s sister is in town so he wants to see her kids, Sungjin’s come down with a bad cold (and blames Brian for it), and Jaebum’s parents decided to visit him as a holiday surprise. So, now Brian’s sitting at his kitchen table, looking at all this stupid food he’s sure he’s still going to finish by Christmas, because his stomach is just bottomless like that.

But even that’s not the problem—Brian’s used to being alone for holidays and eating his feelings away. That’s nothing new. The real problem comes when his phone buzzes again, but this time it’s Jae, asking for Brian’s address and is it ok if he still comes around four tomorrow? Brian has to read it twice before he grasps that this means he’s going to be alone with Jae, in his house, on Christmas Day, and then he has to put his head down for a little to make the room stop spinning. 

Shit. He needs to clean.

Not that his apartment is dirty, but he had just sort of tidied because he knew that with the others there, it would inevitably get dirty anyway. But if it’s just Jae, Brian can’t risk to have his apartment under scrutiny while it looks like this. He’s pretty sure there’s dust on the baseboards from last winter. 

So Brian spends Christmas Eve cleaning and stressing, and that’s just how it is.

Christmas morning comes all too quickly, and Brian is up and decent by 10 a.m.—a whole six hours in advance. For what, exactly, he’s not sure, because all the food is either ready to eat or just needs to be cooked at 375 for twenty minutes, so it’s not like he’s worried about that. The apartment is clean and decorations set out, his tiny Christmas tree twinkling pitifully. For once, he thinks that a big tree would have been worth the fuss, if only to give Jae something nicer to look at. 

Some part of Brian still feels like Jae won’t show. He texted Jae last night, teeth digging into his lower lip as he relayed the news of the other’s cancelling on him, telling Jae that he’s still welcome regardless. Jae reassured him he was still coming, that spending Christmas with Brian would be much better than Christmas alone, but that just left Brian with more questions than before. Is it just because it’s him? Or does Jae mean he just doesn’t want to spend Christmas alone? The overthinking has his brain running in circles, stomach fluttering as the clock ticks closer and closer to four. 

He’s sitting at his kitchen table, hands folded in front of him and feet tapping nervously when the doorbell finally rings. He jumps up immediately, straightening his jeans and trademark ugly Christmas sweater that he wears every year just to annoy the shit out of everyone. 

Brian would like to blame it on the temperature difference between his apartment and the hall, but seeing Jae sort of takes his breath away. His glasses have slipped down his nose, falling dangerously close to where a bright red scarf is bundled around his neck, obscuring his mouth and chin. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his long padded jacket, a gift bag hanging off of his forearm with tissue paper threatening to tumble out. 

“I can take that,” Brin offers immediately, and Jae thrusts it out towards him as he steps inside. With his other hand he pulls his scarf down so he can speak, but first he flashes Brian a bright grin. 

“I know you told me not to bring anything, but I couldn’t show up empty handed,” he says, and Brian just accepts the bag with a gracious smile. 

“Thank you,” he says easily, trying to tamp down the feeling of his stomach attempting to escape through his mouth. “Can I take your coat?”

“Oooh, a gentleman,” Jae teases, unbuttoning his coat and unwinding his scarf easily, showing off the red knit sweater underneath. “I can put it away myself if you show me where,” he insists, so Brian just points him in the direction of the coat closet. Setting the gift on the coffee table, Brian is left to watch as Jae hangs his coat up, eyes following the line of his narrow hips and long legs in dark jeans up to where his sweater slips off his shoulder, showing off the moles dotting the smooth skin there. 

When he turns back to face Brian, Brian’s sort of taken aback at being snapped out of his crush-induced stupor, and he blurts, “Uh, merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas?” Jae replies like it’s a question, obviously a bit surprised by Brian’s sudden holiday cheer. 

“I have snacks,” Brian says, cringing afterwards at how abrupt it sounds. Jae follows him to the kitchen anyway, hovering next the the counter like he wants to help but isn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. It’s endearing, really. “Help yourself,” Brian prompts, soft Christmas music beginning to play through the speakers as he sets his phone down on the counter, popping a chip into his mouth for added effect. Jae snags a plate and some snacks, snapping a carrot in half with his fingers before dipping it in ranch. It’s weird, but cute.

“You want something to drink?” Brian offers. “I’ve got pretty much everything, you can pick your poison.”

“Beer?” Jae asks, and Brian nods, pulling two bottles out of the fridge. He passes one across the counter to Jae, who twists the top off easily and takes a swig, making a noise in surprise.

“It’s actually good,” he comments, and Brian laughs. “I don’t usually like beer, but I didn’t want to be weird and ask for like. Apple juice.”

“I can get you something else,” Brian says immediately, but Jae shakes his head.

“No, this is good, thank you.” He takes another sip, swallowing audibly before saying, “Thanks for inviting me over, too.”

“My pleasure,” Brian replies, and then he adds sheepishly, “sorry it’s not much of a party.”

“Eh, I’m not big into parties anyway,” Jae says, smirking at Brian over the mouth of his bottle. He takes another slow sip before setting his beer down with a clatter, clearing his throat. “So tell me about yourself, Brian.”

Brian short circuits for a second, mouth opening but no sound coming out. Jae seems to find this funny, snickering at him from across the countertop. Brian snap’s his mouth shut, collecting his thoughts before opening it again. “What do you want to know?” He asks.

“Anything.” Jae shrugs. “All I really know about you is that your name is Brian Kang, you grew up in Korea but moved here, and you play hockey professionally.”

Brian whistles. “Yeah that’s not a lot, is it,” he says, and Jae laughs. 

“No it isn’t,” he agrees, softly, and Brian has to think for a moment before he finds something to say. 

“Okay, how’s this? My English name is Brian which I picked myself off a baby names website, but my Korean name is Younghyun. I was born in ’93 so I don’t know if you’re older than me or not, but I don’t really care about honorifics or anything despite being friends with almost exclusively other Koreans. My favorite food is ramen because I can’t cook and I’ve been trying to get into reading lately but books put me to sleep.” It comes out like word vomit which makes Brian cringe at himself, but Jae just nods thoughtfully.

“All good things to know,” he says, and when Brian’s quiet after that he asks, “oh, is it my turn already?” Brian just sort of raises his eyebrows, but Jae gets the message, laughing a little. “Okay, okay. Korean name Park Jaehyung but I go by Jae and I was born in ‘92 so you can call me hyung if you want,” Jae shrugs, right before his lips wrap around the neck of his beer bottle and Brian loses the ability to think once again. Jae purses his lips in thought before he continues, which makes everything so much worse. 

“I don’t really know how I ended up being a sports journalist because I got my degree in political science, but I wouldn’t trade this job for anything. Except maybe a rockstar. Or a professional basketball player. But not for anything else.”

“Basketball?” Brian asks, arching an eyebrow. “How’d you end up writing about hockey then?”

“I wanted a change of pace and some fresh scenery, so when they asked for someone to move up here, I volunteered.”

“Are you going back to Cali after the season’s over?” Brian asks, unable to stop himself. It’s a question that’s been eating at him since the day they met, and he’s never had a chance to ask until now. 

“No,” Jae answers, much faster than Brian expects. “Well. I can’t say for sure. This was just supposed to be for the season, but I really like it here, even though I’m freezing all the time. I want to stay for at least a while after the season ends, and I guess I’ll figure it out after that.”

Brian hums, nodding like he gets it. Which he does, really—he was supposed to come to Canada for high school and then go back to Korea for university, but that didn’t happen. Once he got here, he never left. Toronto’s funny that way. 

“Good to know,” Brian says, and Jae flashes him a sort of shy smile, the kind of smile that’s got something else hidden behind it. What exactly, Brian can’t say, but it’s Christmas. Everything has to go well because it’s Christmas.

Jae stays long past when Brian expects him to leave—they move into the living room, crack open some more beer and watch a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie and yell at the characters when they do something stupid. Jae’s loud and funny and his long limbs sort of spill out of Brian’s cracked leather armchair and it’s the most beautiful thing Brian’s ever seen. He finds his eyes drifting from the screen over to Jae and sometimes Jae looks back at him, smiling brighter than midday sun on fresh snow. 

The moon hangs high in the sky by the time they finally call it a night, _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ playing for the second time that night. 

“This was fun,” Jae says as he wraps his scarf around his pretty neck again, and there’s nothing but sincerity in his voice. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for coming,” Brian returns, unsure of what to do with his hands as Jae pulls his jacket on. One of the sleeves gets a little stuck, and Brian moves to fix it without thinking, finding himself with his face very close to Jae’s chest as he tugs on the sleeve till it frees and slips on easily. Jae presses his lips together, eyes widening as Brian steps back.

“Sorry,” Brian apologizes reflexively, but Jae shakes his head.

“Don’t be.” The look in Jae’s eyes is something Brian’s never seen on him before, but Brian thinks that maybe Jae’s looking at him like he’s something precious, like he’s grateful to Brian. Brian likes the feeling of being looked at like that, hasn’t felt it in so long that it nearly feels brand new all over again. 

“Get home safe,” Brian says, finally taking his hand off where it was resting on Jae’s shoulder. 

“I will,” Jae promises, and he lets Brian walk him to the door and see him off. Brian lingers as Jae descends the stairs, doesn’t even think about closing his front door till he sees Jae get safely into his car and the headlights flash yellow against the black tarmac. There’s a feeling of longing in his stomach, like he misses Jae even though he isn’t even really gone yet—everything about that man makes Brian feel like a teenager again, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. There aren’t many things in his life that get him to feel like that, so Brian relishes the sensation whenever he can get it.

Finally, when Jae’s pulling out of the parking lot in his 2000 Lexus, Brian shuts the door, turning to press his back against the cold wood and letting it support him as his head lolls back, eyes fluttering shut. There’s food to be cleaned up, candles to be blown out, and decorations to be put away, but right now he doesn’t want to think about any of that. For the first time in months, he’s made some headway with the guy he’s got a ridiculous planet-sized crush on, and Brian just wants to savor it for as long as he can. 

When he finally steels himself to the task of cleaning and opens his eyes, a quick survey of the room shows him something that’s been forgotten for hours--the gift Jae brought him, sitting unopened on the coffee table. 

Inside the bag wrapped in taped up tissue paper is a pair of grey and white knit gloves, and a note with messy scrawl reading “Merry Christmas, Brian Kang.” Brian puts the gloves in his bag and tucks the note into his wallet for safekeeping, and he doesn’t stop thinking about the significance of the gift until he finally drifts off to sleep. 

+

_January_

+

Post-Christmas, everything feels a little different. There’s something there, between them that wasn’t there before, and Brian thinks it’s different from the friendships his teammates have with Jae, at least in some way. Now Brian’s the one going over to bother Jae during gaps in practice, teasing him through the plexiglass barrier for the woolen gloves he insists on wearing despite not being on the ice. 

“Leave me alone,” Jae bites back, voice lacking any sort of malice whatsoever, “go back to beating up Jaebum or whatever it is you fools do.”

“Beating up Jaebum is my job description, you’re right,” Brian agrees with a laugh, pushing off the wall so he can skate directly into Jaebum, an unwitting participant in Jae and Brian’s flirting. Jaebum grunts when Brian runs into him, shoving him off easily and going for Brian’s stomach with the butt of his hockey stick. Brian thinks he can hear Jae laughing at them in the distance, and even Jaebum seems to be amused by the impromptu play fight. From the other side of the rink, Jackson calls “go for the jugular!” and the whole team dissolves into chaos, much to Sungjin’s dismay. It’s a good life, Brian thinks.

+

Another day of practice means another day spent bothering Jae when he’s supposed to be working on his next article, but this time Brian’s got a plan. The pond near his apartment has completely frozen over, and some of the neighborhood kids already did the hard work of shoveling off the snow so they could play hockey on it. Brian hasn’t gone pond skating in years, and he’s itching to go out there, but going by himself doesn’t sound nearly half as fun as dragging Jae with him. 

Problem being, Mark and Bernard and even Coach Park have been trying to get Jae in skates since his first month with their team, and each time he’s refused. Even though he won’t even skate in the rink, Brian’s hoping his charm will be enough to get Jae to agree to pond skating. 

When he tells Jaebum about his plan, Jaebum congratulates him for “finally finding the balls to ask Jae out.” Brian denies it quickly, but the thought lingers: is it a date? Will Jae think its a date? 

He decides to ask anyway, because he wants to go that badly. And, well. If Jae thinks its a date and says yes, that’s just an extra win. 

As soon as Sungjin calls for a short break, Brian sets out for the side of the rink where Jae’s sitting, pen cap between his teeth as he hacks away on his laptop keyboard, a small notebook resting in his lap. 

“Hey,” he says, and Jae’s head jolts up, pen cap falling out of his mouth. Brian can’t help but laugh when Jae tries to play it off like nothing happened.

“Hey,” he replies easily, straightening up and shutting his laptop so he can lean forward to hear Brian better. 

“You doing anything this weekend?” Brian asks, getting straight to the point. He’s still a little nervous to ask for things, but thinking back to how terrified and awkward he was asking Jae to Christmas, he can definitely recognize improvement.

“Not that I know of,” Jae replies slowly, eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to rope me into?”

“Let me take you skating,” Brian says, and Jae rolls his eyes like he’s been waiting for this.

“Why do you bother to ask if you know I’m just going to say no?” he laughs, and Brian just smiles, leaning his weight against the wall. 

“I’m not asking,” he says. “We can go at night. No one else to see you if you faceplant, just you and me. And I won’t let you faceplant anyways.” 

Jae bites his lip like he’s considering it, and Brian puts on his most convincing smile. 

“You can hold my hand the whole time,” he teases, just to get a rise out of Jae, who makes like he’s going to ruffle Brian’s hair in retaliation, pauses when he sees the sweat there, and then does it anyway. 

Brian laughs. “So is that a yes?” he asks, looking up at Jae with hopeful eyes. 

“I’ll go with you,” Jae says carefully, “but no promises that I’ll actually skate, okay?”

“Okay,” Brian agrees, and then they’re interrupted by the shrill blast of a whistle.

“Get back to practice,” Jae says, shoving Brian off the wall playfully. 

“Yes, sir,” Brian answers, giving Jae a mock salute before skating off, relishing in the sound of Jae’s laughter at his back. Now, even more than being content, he’s got something to look forward to. 

+

Brian does all the hard work before Jae gets to his apartment: he reshovels the inch and some of snow that’s fallen since the lake was last cleared, checks it for thickness and makes sure there’s no cracks, and grabs skates for both of them so all they have to do once they get out there is throw them on and go. The amount of work Brian’s putting in prior really makes it feel like a date, but he’s trying not to think about that so much. 

When he finally opens the door for Jae a few hours later, he can’t help but burst into giggles.

“Asshole,” Jae mutters, voice muffled by the absolutely ridiculous balaclava he’s wearing. He’s bundled head to toe in black: black balaclava, black long padding, black gloves, black snow boots. 

“You look like a really ineffective ninja,” Brian informs him, and Jae tugs the fabric down off his mouth with an annoyed glare.

“I am a delicate California cactus blossom,” he says indignantly, and Brian snickers. “I was not built for your stupid Canadian winters.” 

“They’re no more mine than any other Canadian,” Brian protests weakly, but Jae isn’t listening.

“So why’d I have to meet you here instead of at the rink?” he asks Brian, narrowing his eyes at him. Brian just flashes him a grin.

“Because we’re not going skating at the rink,” he answers, which is clearly not a good enough explanation for Jae, who sputters. 

“We’re not—” he starts, and Brian nods. “Outside? Brian. Are you trying to kill me?”

“I would never,” Brian teases, and Jae’s face softens slightly. 

“I’m not skating,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can’t make me, Kang.”

“Okay,” Brian agrees easily, shouldering past Jae to pick up the duffle bag with the skates that he’d set by the door. This response doesn’t seem to please Jae either. 

“You’re still gonna make me aren’t you,” he says as he follows Brian out, down the stairs and out into the cold. 

“I’m not gonna make you do anything,” Brian hums. No, if everything goes the way he wants it to, he can get Jae to skate of his own volition. 

The snow crunches beneath their boots, having frozen from the soft powder in the few hours since it last fell. 

“How much further?” Jae asks anxiously, looking back towards the slowly diminishing apartment complex behind them.

“Not much,” Brian reassures, pointing to the clearing ahead of them. “Look, hyung.”

The honorific gets Jae’s attention, and he squints at the blank white wasteland in front of them, searching for what Brian already sees. Finally he gets it, eyes widening comically as he takes in the frozen pond now only a few yards ahead of them.

“It’s bigger than I thought,” he blurts, and Brian laughs.

“Well I can’t exactly skate on a frozen puddle,” he says, and if Jae wasn’t wearing that stupid balaclava Brian would be able to confirm the blush he’s almost sure is there. 

They reach the edge, and Jae almost trips over himself to avoid stepping on the ice. Brian plops down on the bank next to him, dropping the duffel into the snow and exchanging his boots for skates with practiced ease. Jae watches in wide-eyed horror as Brian steps on to the ice, taking a moment to get his bearings before skating an easy loop around the perimeter, hands in his pockets just to show off a little. 

“You’re crazy,” Jae laughs from the bank, finally having unbundled himself a bit after the walk so Brian can see his bright smile. 

“It’s perfectly safe,” Brian insists, turning to skate the loop backwards so he can watch the look on Jae’s face.

“Okay this sounds bad,” Jae starts, and Brian has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “But I didn’t know you could actually skate prettily. Since hockey is so. You know.”

“I originally trained as a figure skater,” Brian admits, and that seems to blow Jae’s mind.

“Like. With the spandex and the sparkles? Please, Bri, please tell me you have pictures,” he begs, and Brian’s ears flush with heat despite the cold January air. 

“At my mom’s house,” he replies, smiling when Jae’s face flashes to disappointment, picking back up a second later.

“Guess I’ll just have to pay her a visit,” he says, and that flusters Brian enough that he pretends to not hear it. He skates a couple more loops, enjoying the feeling of being outside along with the smooth glide of his skates against the fresh ice. Jae watches in relative silence, and Brian is surprisingly unbothered by the feeling of Jae’s eyes on him. It’s more relaxing like this, he thinks, with no pressure to work hard during practice and play well during a game. Now Jae’s seeing him in his element, just Brian and the cold air and the ice. No teammates or puck to play for, just skating like he did when he was a kid. 

Finally, Brian slows to a stop in front of where Jae stands on the bank, a little breathless but still smiling brightly.

“Come with me,” he says, and Jae doesn’t say no. He looks to the ice then back to Brian, eyes darkening like he’s thinking through all the possible things that could go wrong. “Please,” Brian adds, stretching out a gloved hand. To his surprise, Jae takes it, slim fingers slotting through Brian’s easily as he takes a tentative step out onto the ice. Brian guides him just a little further out, skating backwards until Jae’s feet are both definitively on the ice. He drops Jae’s hand sheepishly, but Jae steps closer anyway.

Jae wrinkles his nose once they’re face to face, barely inches away from each other. “I don’t like that you’re so tall with your skates on, it feels weird.”

“Yeah, well, I like it,” Brian replies easily, joking. Then, a little softer, like the words are slipping out on their own: “I like you, too.” He doesn’t mean to say it—at least, he hadn’t planned to. But he means it, and Brian thinks that’s good enough. 

Jae cocks his head to the side a little, letting out a puff of breath that is visible in the cold night air. Brian doesn’t let himself think, just focuses on the sting of the air in his nostrils and the glitter of Jae’s eyes, moonlight bouncing off the planes of his face. Then Jae leans in to close the gap, the cold tip of his nose brushing Brian’s skin and making him shiver before he presses their lips together, warm and soft and everything Brian has hoped it would be. Jae grips at Brian’s sleeves like a lifeline, and Brian’s hands go to his waist on impulse.

“You’re not gonna fall through, I’ve got you,” he says reassuringly when they break apart, and Jae pinches at Brian’s sleeve playfully. 

“You underestimate how much ice and I do not get along,” he retorts, but he loosens his hold anyway. Brian almost misses it—no, he does miss it. He bunches up the waist of Jae’s coat in his hands, pulling him in close for another kiss.

“What are we doing?” Jae asks, laughing as he pulls away, eyes searching Brian’s face. What he’s looking for, Brian doesn’t know, and he has no good answer to Jae’s question either. 

“We’re going skating,” he says, leaning to pick up Jae’s skates from where they rest on the edge of the ice. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise.”

Jae grumbles something that sounds like, “just because you asked,” before he heads to the bank, plopping down in the snow to swap his boots out for skates. When he’s done he tries to push himself up but nearly slips—thankfully, Brian’s had a lot of practice, so he’s there to catch Jae by the elbow before he wipes out.

“Who’s idea was it to play sports on blades? Why would anyone want that?” he complains as Brian laughs, guiding Jae out a bit further to where the ice is clear of snow but still thick enough to skate on. 

“I’m going to die. I’m going to die out here and you’re going to die trying to save me and they’ll find our bodies two weeks from now when someone tries to go ice fishing and finds us frozen into the lake,” Jae blabbers, but Brian just tightens his hold on Jae’s arm, widening his stance for more stability as he rolls his eyes. 

“You have such faith in me,” he replies dryly, and Jae just sticks out his tongue like a child.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t trust the ice. Or my feet,” he explains, and Brian sighs.

“Here,” he says, maneuvering himself to be in front of Jae and taking Jae’s arms from behind him to wrap around his waist. Jae’s chest is pressed against Brian’s back, and Brian can feel Jae’s warm breath ghost over the shell of his ear. “Just hold on and glide, I’ll do all the work. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

“Okay,” Jae replies softly, tightening his hold on Brian’s waist by just a fraction before Brian pushes off, taking slow, lazy strides across the smooth ice. 

Brian feels Jae tense and relax against his back as they make their way around, trying his best to keep a slow, steady pace so Jae will stop freaking out. Skating with a six foot human latched onto his back is a new experience for Brian, but he thinks he’s doing a decent job of it. 

“Okay, okay,” Jae finally says, his hold on Brian’s waist gradually loosening until he finally lets go. “I think I got it.”

Brian spins to face him, amused as he watches Jae attempt to walk with skates on in a way that very much resembles a newborn fawn—with the way Jae’s eyes widen comically as he starts to lose balance, he starts to resemble Bambi. Brian intervenes easily, taking both of Jae’s hands so he can steady Jae, who breathes a sigh of relief.

“I don’t got it,” he admits, and Brian nearly keels over laughing. “It’s not funny,” Jae protests, shoving at Brian’s arm and looking annoyed when Brian easily regains his balance. 

“Here,” Brian says, and he offers his hand again. “This way you can skate, but I’ll be here to catch you.”

“Don’t need you to catch me,” Jae mutters, but he takes Brian’s hand anyway, and they start off around the pond again. Brian glows with pride as Jae starts to get the hang of it, though he still keeps his fingers tightly laced with Brian’s even as his strides become steadier, more confident. 

“Look at you,” he hums, and Jae beams. Slowly, Jae lets go of Brian’s hand, and Brian slows to let Jae skate out in front of him, just watching. He’s a little awkward on his skates still, but that means nothing when Brian thinks about how far they’ve come in just a few months. 

Jae turns shakily, skating back towards Brian on unsteady legs. They nearly crash because Jae doesn’t know how to stop, but Brian catches him by his forearms, accepting some of the momentum with a gentle glide backwards.

“Thanks.” Jae says sheepishly, and Brian says “no problem” with a chaste kiss, chapped lips and cold nose and all.

“It’s too cold for that,” Jae laughs, but Brian sighs in contentment.

“Don’t you feel it though?” he asks, and Jae cocks his head like he doesn’t know what Brian’s saying. Honestly Brian isn’t totally sure what he’s saying, but he knows this: being out here, cold air stinging at exposed skin and night sky stretched out dark and sparkling overhead, Brian feels like they can do anything, like somehow a piece of _them_ , Brian and Jae together, will be here forever. 

“I don’t know,” he says in answer to Jae’s expression. It’s not the complete truth, but Jae seems to get it anyway, looking from Brian’s face then up to the sky and back again. 

“Let’s go back inside,” he says, “I think your brain’s starting to get frostbite.”

“Okay,” Brian agrees, voice barely above a whisper, leaning in to steal another kiss before they leave the ice. 

Brian lets Jae lead him off the ice, and when they do Brian notices that he doesn’t feel the way he usually does—he doesn’t feel like he’s leaving home. But the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Home isn’t necessarily on the ice—Brian’s home is trekking through the snow just ahead of him, complaining loudly about Canadian weather and Brian’s persistence. But really, Brian wouldn’t have it any other way. 


End file.
